


A Far Cry

by fragiledrug



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Child Abuse, Explicit Language, Fluff, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-11-12
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-26 00:32:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragiledrug/pseuds/fragiledrug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sarek dies abruptly, Amanda decides it's time to move back to Earth with her son Spock. The place? Riverside, Iowa. Here he meets Jim Kirk and their lives are changed forever as they help one another to heal similar wounds and create new bonds even in the face of numerous obstacles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a serious work-in-progress. At some point it will be explicit enough to warrant its' rating between potentially graphic scenes of violence and sex, but for now it's just super angsty and sad ~~because I like angst and sadness~~. Star Trek and its affiliated characters are, of course, not mine and I am not making any profit.

_Today we honor the memory of Sarek, son of Skon._  
We are all diminished by his death but we were enriched by his life.  
Today we honor him: We honor the husband, the father, the brother, the scientist.  
His life is one to be held in the highest regard and esteem.  
My family and friends… peace and long life.  
Live long and prosper. 

It had been more than a month since the funeral, but to Spock it seemed like a disjointed blur of time in which he was frozen, unmoving, while everything and everyone else around him sped by. His father’s death had been unexpected, but his mother’s decision to move back to Earth afterward had been even more-so. She’d said they needed a change, a new start. Spock found her reasons illogical; they could remain on Vulcan and acquire change, as well as a new start. He didn’t argue, however, not wanting to upset her more than she already was. She cried periodically and without warning. The day of the funeral, she had knelt next to him and grasped his shoulders, saying, “You can cry, Spock, it’s okay.” He hadn’t. A strange numbness had begun to spread through him the day he had learned of his father’s passing that only became colder and more penetrating with each day that passed, with each object he packed away in preparation of moving, with each grief-stricken smile his mother sent his way.

He was barely aware of the shuttle ride to the transport ship and even less aware of the journey to their designated cabins once on board. With his mother’s permission, Spock immediately left for the observation deck. Vulcan was little more than a reddish-brown sphere. He watched the planet grow smaller and smaller until it couldn’t be seen anymore and the space beyond it was a void of suffocating blackness that seemed threatening and desolate at the same time. Of course, he knew space did not threaten, nor was it depressed. He must have been fatigued, to be having such strange, irrational thoughts. After a while, his mother joined him, her hand carding through his hair in an attempt at comfort and reassurance. He didn’t tell her it was for naught.


	2. Chapter 2

The trip to Earth was without incident. After they left Vulcan’s orbit, Spock returned to the cabin. He hadn’t left it since. His mother brought him meals but he only ate every other. The rest of his time was spent reading, sleeping or meditating. He found it difficult to keep track of time, despite the inherent internal chronometer Vulcans possessed, and as a result he was mildly surprised when Amanda informed him they were approaching Earth’s orbit.

“Do you want to see?” she asked, concern written plainly on her face and in her voice. He knew his behavior was upsetting her. In an attempt to display a return to normalcy he didn’t feel even slightly, he acquiesced and they walked to the observation desk together.

Earth was stunning; stark swirls of white overlaid rich blue, green and brown. Spock knew Earth was primarily water, unlike Vulcan where water wasn’t nearly so abundant or readily-available. Earth was also far lusher as a result, though he had only seen images of Earth foliage. Still, the beauty of the water-based sphere was significantly diminished by the hollowness he felt. Turning away from the view, Spock went to gather his belongings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is intentionally super short. The next chapter will be significantly longer and should be up soon (fingers crossed!), assuming I manage to keep my K/S muse inspired.


	3. Chapter 3

“Isn’t this exciting?”

Amanda’s voice broke through his thoughts. Spock had been staring out the window of the hovercar, though he wasn’t actually seeing the brilliant gold and green fields, made even bolder by the contrast of clear blue sky, that raced by. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t know what he wanted, exactly, but it wasn’t anything that could be found on Earth. Or Vulcan, for that matter.

“Spock, it won’t be so bad. There’s a lot of new things for you to experience here, and I’m sure your father—“

She abruptly cut off. In the window’s reflection, Spock saw her lift a hand to wipe her eyes.

“Anyway, things will get better. I promise.”

He sincerely doubted that. Focusing his line of vision beyond his mother’s reflection, he finally looked at the landscape surrounding them. The tall stalks (corn, his mind supplied automatically) swayed lightly, rustled by a soft, dry breeze. They seemed endless. Of course, Spock knew that wasn’t true. There was nothing endless, save perhaps the galaxy, and even that wasn’t absolute. He was struck with the sudden desire to walk into the maize and get lost amongst the lofty vegetation, maybe even disappear.

“Oh, no.”

At the same time his mother’s voice cut through his thoughts again, the hovercar sputtered and came to an abrupt stop. Blinking, Spock looked over. Amanda turned the key, trying to start the ignition but the vehicle merely shuddered in response, refusing to turn over. She tried approximately five more times before throwing her hands up in defeat. “It looks like we’re taking a walk.”

Spock exited the vehicle, grateful for the chance to stretch his legs. It was as his mother was exiting herself that the sound of another vehicle drew their attention. It was red, clearly vintage but in good condition, or at least Spock assumed it was if the way it gleamed in the sun was any indication. They watched it approach and slow until the antique vehicle came to a stop beside their own. It lacked an anti-grav shield over the top, leaving the two passengers clearly visible; an older man, and a boy, roughly Spock’s age, maybe a year or two younger, with floppy wind-whipped blond hair who was pointedly looking down.

“Looks like you need some help,” the man said, not paying the least bit of attention to Spock. His entire being seemed to be focused on Amanda, who smiled and nodded.

“Looks like we do. Are you offering?”

“A’course. Where you headed?”

“Riverside.”

“Well, hop on in. We’re just runnin’ a few errands, if you don’t mind a detour or two.”

Amanda touched Spock’s shoulder, the contact brief, meant to be reassuring. It drew the man’s attention to him and he squinted, a frown curving his mouth as he took in his ears and eyebrows. Spock didn’t shift even slightly under the scrutiny. “Off-worlders?” 

The blond boy looked up for the first time at that, gaze locking onto Spock’s with such intensity he was momentarily stunned. His eyes were a shade of blue that was rare even by human standards, bright and clear, like the sky above them but somehow _more_.

“Yes,” his mother replied. “Vulcan.”

“Well you ought to be right at home here. It gets nice and hot. Name’s Frank, by the way, and this is Jim.” The boy – Jim – finally broke eye-contact, looking back down.

“It’s nice to meet you – and not just because you’re a complete life-saver.” Amanda’s laugh rang in Spock’s ears, delicate and light but real. “I’m Amanda, and this my son, Spock. Should we grab any of our things, or…?”

“Yeah, just toss ‘em in the back.”

Spock moved without being told to, getting his few packed belongings from their defunct vehicle. After placing them in trunk, he slid into the backseat beside his mother and directly behind Jim. He found himself unable to look away from the other boy’s reflection in the side-view mirror. As if feeling his gaze, Jim looked at the mirror, at Spock. The vehicle lurched forward uncomfortably and Jim smirked – or at least, Spock thought it was a smirk. He wasn’t adept at reading human body language and facial expressions yet and to say the least he was left completely bemused by what the quirk of lips was intended to mean, assuming it was intended to mean anything at all. After all, humans were capricious, emotional creatures. Alongside his bemusement, there was a flare of agitation he quickly suppressed.

Refocusing his gaze outside the vehicle, Spock listened as Frank asked his mother questions and she answered them cheerfully. Most were about her. How long had she lived on Vulcan? Why was she moving to Riverside, Iowa of all places? Was she sure she was old enough to have a kid? Spock got the distinct impression he was flirting with her at that point and the agitation returned. He closed his eyes.

_Breathe._

_Center._

_Logic._

_Tvi-sochya._

An unfamiliar voice broke his attempt at _wh’ltri_. “So you’re a Vulcan.”

Spock opened his eyes to find that Jim had twisted around in his seat and was more or less draped over it, hands tucked under his chin, watching him intently. There was none of the malice and disgust he had become so used to seeing in the human boy’s face or eyes, just curiosity – and something else, something he couldn’t place but tucked away in his memory for later analysis. “Affirmative,” he confirmed.

“But your mom is human.”

“As is yours, I would conjecture.”

Jim stared at him for several seconds. Then, he laughed. Spock was thrown by both the unexpected reaction and the rush of intangible warmth that spread through him at the sound. “So you’re actually only half-Vulcan. Have you ever been on Earth before?”

Spock fought the very un-Vulcan urge to fidget. “Negative.”

“Do you like it so far?”

“…I have not yet seen enough of Earth to make a negative or positive opinion.”

For some reason, that made Jim laugh again. Spock couldn’t decide if this particular human was simply more erratic than most or if he was somehow misreading him. It was possible both were true. He also couldn’t place the cause of the peculiar but decidedly wonderful warmth that blossomed under his skin a second time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tvi-sochya = inner peace  
> Wh'ltri = meditation (the simplest of Vulcan meditation technique)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is this fluff and how did it happen? Kirk kind of... derailed everything here. xD

The first of the errands turned out to be shopping for food. The market was almost uncomfortably busy, or at least it was in Spock’s opinion. There were people everywhere, most minding their own business, doing whatever it was they needed to do, but he inevitably drew curious stares and muted whispers. For the sake of preventing any accidental touching, Spock kept close to Amanda as they navigated the aisles. Frank took the lead and Jim lingered behind, his hand outstretched so he could run his fingertips along the shelves. Spock noticed that he was humming under his breath, yet he could not place the unfamiliar tune even with his keen hearing. The cadence changed intermittently, leading him to believe he was contriving it on the spot.

He was so focused on listening to the hum he nearly walked into Amanda when she stopped without warning. Vulcan reflexes kicked in, preventing him from colliding with her. Jim must have been distracted as well because a moment later he was a solid presence against Spock’s back. Spock went rigid at the unexpected contact. When Jim didn’t immediately apologize and step back, he glanced over his shoulder. Jim was staring at the back of his neck. Spock had to fight the desire to lift a hand and make sure he didn’t have something on him, instead raising a slanted eyebrow that Jim noticed at once. He gave Spock a crooked grin.

“Wanna see somethin’ cool?” Spock blinked, eyebrow ascending higher. Even though he hadn’t responded, Jim gave him a look like he’d said something offensive about his mother and shook his head. “Just come with me.” Before he could ask what or why, Jim hooked his arm through one of Spock’s and began to drag him away from Amanda and Frank. He was startled enough that he didn’t think to pull away, though he easily could have, being at least two times stronger than the human boy. He was dragged all the way out of the market before he finally managed to speak up.

“We should return.”

Jim made a noise that was either a snort or a laugh. Spock couldn’t tell. “You really are a Vulcan, huh?”

“Affirmative, though I do not know why you would think I am not—“

“Oh my god. Shut up and just come on.” There was definitely laughter in his voice that time. Spock decided to let Jim drag him for a little bit longer, undeniably curious. They finally stopped in front of the vehicle. Kirk released his arm, holding the keys on display with a triumphant grin. “Let’s go for a ride.”

“I do not think—“

“You think entirely too much, actually. Are you getting in or going back?”

Spock stared at Jim, affronted. There was a challenge in the human boy’s eyes that he felt himself responding to and instead of turning around and heading back like he should have, he moved around the vehicle and slid into the passenger seat. Jim grinned again as he got in the driver’s seat.

“For the record, this is a terrible idea.”

Jim didn’t respond as he started the car and pulled out of the parking space, then the lot with a surprising ease that gave Spock the impression this wasn’t his first time driving. Within minutes they were on the long, open stretch of road Spock and Amanda had been picked up on. He glanced at the speedometer and nearly blanched.

“You are aware of the speed limit?”

“Yep.”

“And that you are well over the posted limit?”

“I like to think of speed limits as recommendations.”

“Which you are choosing to ignore.”

As if in answer, Jim sped up. A strange thrill raced through Spock – adrenaline – and he closed his eyes. The wind whipped around him, mussing his hair. He inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of hot pavement, oil, and something foreign but pleasant. He opened his eyes, realizing the unfamiliar scent was coming from Jim. More specifically, from his hair. He hadn’t noticed it before because he’d been so inwardly focused but now that he wasn’t it was an irresistible lure. There were few things he had discovered that made him want to abandon all his careful control. This was one. The urge to draw closer, to touch and bury his nose against the golden locks practically screamed at him. It was ridiculous, and beyond that, embarrassing. He practically jolted out of the seat when Jim reached out and flicked a button that turned on music. Jim just gave him a questioning side-long glance.

“What is this?” Spock had to raise his voice several degrees.

“Music.” Jim’s voice was pure sarcasm and Spock was sorely tempted to roll his eyes.

“I am aware of that. I meant what type of music.”

“Classic rock.”

Spock tilted his head as he listened. It was… interesting, if nothing else. There was a heavy bass-line that reverberated through the vehicle and, consequently, his body. It seemed to disrupt the natural rhythm of heart, but not in a way that was cause for alarm. The vocalist was singing about saving him and blasphemy in his wasteland, which made little sense to Spock so he stopped paying attention to the lyrics and instead focused on the tempo. At least until Jim began to bob in place, singing along, and then his focus shifted to the human boy, torn between dismay and awe at his lack of self-restraint.

He continued to sing and drum his fingers against the steering wheel until they suddenly turned off the main road and came to a jarring stop. Spock looked around, attempting to figure out where they were despite his lack of familiarity with the area. There was a pond several feet away with a few trees scattered about. One of the trees closest to the pond had a rope tied around one of the thicker supporting branches. He couldn’t even begin to attempt to figure out what purpose the rope held before Jim was getting out and Spock slowly got out of the vehicle himself.

“What are we doing here?”

Jim didn’t answer as he grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted it, shucking the article of clothing in a move that was almost inhumanly smooth. He then removed his shoes before unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. Spock felt the need to look away though he could still hear the sound of the pants being pulled off and discarded with as much care as the shirt.

“I demand an explanation of why you have brought me to this place, and also of why you are removing your clothing.”

“Relax, would ya? It’s a nice day. I just wanna take a dip.”

“A dip?” Spock glanced at Jim before he could stop himself. He was walking toward Spock in nothing but a pair of dark red boxer shorts. He was lean, with little more than the beginning hints of new muscle mass. Subtle freckles peppered his shoulders. He had a number of light scars decorating his body, mostly along his arms and torso, made more noticeable by the sun-kissed color of his skin. He felt his face heat inexplicably. Thankfully Jim didn’t seem to notice the olive flush as he brazenly sauntered right into Spock’s personal space and took hold of his tunic. It took every ounce of control Spock had to not wrench away.

“Yeah, a dip. You know, in the water?”

“Swimming,” Spock ascertained.

“Have you ever been?”

“No, I have not. Vulcan is a desert planet, with limited water resources. As such activities like swimming are not practical or beneficial.”

Jim stared at him for a moment. “So do you even know _how_ to swim?”

“…I do not know.” It was the truth. Since he had never been swimming before, he couldn’t say whether or not he knew how. He felt on some level swimming was instinctual – he’d once read that Terran felines were capable of swimming even if they’d never been in water – but at the same time, there was likely some intuition he lacked due to his place of origin.

“Well there’s one way to find out.” Before Spock could so much as blink Jim was tugging his tunic upward. Spock remained as non-compliant as possible until Jim huffed. “Lift your arms or I’m gonna leave this thing over your head and drag you in just like you are.” Spock couldn’t say with absolute certainty that he wouldn’t, so he lifted his arms. Jim yanked the tunic all the way off and tossed it in the general direction of his own discarded clothing. When he started to laugh Spock merely stared at him until he reached out and smoothed his hair down. It had gotten mussed by the tunic. Spock noted with some curiosity that the brief contact had increased his heart rate by at least 20%.

Still grinning, Jim grabbed Spock’s upper arm and towed him in the direction of the pond. Spock didn’t resist until they reached the edge of the water and then he dug his heels in, nearly causing both of them to fall backward. Jim huffed dramatically. “What now?”

“I still have my shoes on.”

Jim looked down at his shoed feet. “So take them off.” Spock gave him a blank look, at which Jim crossed his arms over his bare chest. “I’m counting to three, and then we’re going in, shoes or no shoes.” One of Spock’s arched eyebrows lifted several degrees. “One.” They stared at each other for several beats. “Two.” Spock’s eyebrow twitched further up. Jim flexed his fingers, briefly drawing the Vulcan’s gaze to them. “Two and a half…”

“You are stalling.”

“No, I’m giving you a fair chance. Two and three quarters…”

Spock inclined his head. It was slight, but it expressed a challenge nonetheless. A challenge Jim didn’t miss if the spark in those too-blue eyes was anything to go by. _He would not dare_ , Spock thought abstractly. He was right.

Sort of.

Instead of grabbing him and attempting to drag him into the water (which would have failed), Jim grinned, shouted, “Three!” and leaped into the water – consequently splashing Spock. The water was cold. He only just managed to stifle a gasp and keep from jerking away. He stood there for several seconds attempting to gather himself before he knelt down to remove his shoes. It might have been a moot point after being splashed but he took them off anyway and set them aside just in time to get splashed a second time.


	5. Chapter 5

It was roughly an hour later when the police cruiser pulled up. Neither boy noticed. As it turned out, Spock was a natural when it came to swimming. He could hold his breath for a significantly longer time than Jim, something Jim had needed to test after he was certain Spock wouldn’t drown right away. After playing around for a while (or rather, after Jim played around, splashing at Spock and enjoying the Vulcan’s continued resistance to anything that resembled fun until he finally broke and splashed Jim back) they started talking, really talking. Jim learned why Spock was there, that his father had died. Spock learned that Jim’s father had died the day of his birth. They discussed school and hobbies and injuries, and Spock was pleasantly surprised by how easy it was to talk to Jim, how – _compatible_ they seemed despite his initial impression of the human. It was around the time they were simply floating, playing a strange game of identifying shapes in the clouds that Frank’s voice interrupted them.

“James Tiberius Kirk! Get your ass out of that pond right now!”

Jim sputtered, immediately losing his equilibrium and flailing as he tried not to drown. Spock was far more collected as he turned to see the officer, Frank and his mother approach the lake. His attention fixed on Amanda. She looked… bemused, upset. Something in Spock twisted uncomfortably. This behavior was so unlike him, and he had caused that expression on her face. He had caused her to worry. Without even glancing at Jim, he swam toward the shore, only distantly aware of the human following after him. They climbed out of the pond and collected their clothes in silence. The second he was within touching distance of her, Amanda pulled Spock against her, hands carding through his disheveled wet hair.

“Spock, you’re soaked. What happened?”

“Jim insisted we go for a ride.”

He tried not to look up at her, not wanting to see how concerned she was, but when his gaze shifted of its own accord, completely bypassing permission from his brain, he caught the flicker of a relieved smile. “Well,” she huffed into his hair, “I’m glad you’re okay. Just – tell me where you’re going in the future, okay?”

Spock nodded mutely. There was a sudden commotion that forcibly dragged his attention back to Jim, where he was being hauled into the vehicle by Frank. Amanda gave him a gentle nudge in the same direction and he went willingly, climbing back into the backseat. After she got in as well, they drove away from the pond, an awkward tension hanging thick in the air.

The drive was uncomfortably silent. Frank dropped them off at the little farm they were staying at for awhile and promised he’d pick up the hovercar and bring it around the next day. Then, he left. Jim didn’t glance at Spock even once. Unease prickled in Spock’s mind but he forced it down as Amanda led him into the house. As far as furnishings went it was pretty bare. There was a couch in the living room, a round table in the kitchen, and a bed in each of the three bedrooms. After looking around, they settled in the kitchen together to eat something.

Halfway through dinner, Amanda spoke up, startling Spock from his thoughts. “So, that boy.”

“Jim,” he supplied quietly.

“He’s around your age.”

“I am aware.”

Amanda sighed and Spock looked up at her. “I just think… never mind. Are you tired?”

“Yes.” It was a lie. He wasn’t really tired, but he wanted to be alone. His mind was a mess. He needed to meditate, to calm the chaos the day’s events had stirred up. Amanda simply nodded. Pushing away from the table, Spock climbed the stairs to the room he’d chosen.


	6. Chapter 6

The next day Spock pulled himself from a number (twenty-five, to be precise) of failed attempts at meditation to the sound of his mother’s voice. She was singing. Rising from his meditation pose, he trekked downstairs to find Amanda moving about the kitchen, making breakfast. She smiled at him, easily as ever.

“Good morning, Spock.”

“Good morning, mother.”

“I thought after Frank brought the hovercar around we could start unpacking.”

Spock felt a twinge of unease at the suggestion. Unpacking meant settling, finality. Still, he nodded his agreement. Amanda’s smile brightened a touch and she went back to singing, not the least bit hindered by his presence. Spock watched her like he always did, slightly awed by how easily she expressed herself, how little she cared if others knew what she was thinking, what she was feeling. Her emotions were constantly on display. Something went cold in him at the thought that he was nothing like her and he never could be.

“Mother?”

“Yes, Spock?”

“May I forgo breakfast in favor of exploring?”

Amanda turned and looked at him. “Yes, you may, but please don’t go too far.”

“I will not.”

Without waiting for further permission, Spock went back upstairs to quickly change his clothing. Even though it was early morning it was fairly warm out already. It was nowhere near as warm as Vulcan, of course, and to compensate Spock pulled on an extra layer. Amanda was still singing when he made his way down for the second time and left. He could hear her even once the door had closed behind him. Tuning her out, he took a deep breath. The air was crisp, fresh. Earth had different smells than Vulcan.

He spent the majority of the day exploring a five-mile radius around the house.

It was the sound of an engine that drew him back around three in the afternoon. He returned to find Jim sitting on the porch steps. Spock paused several feet away, waiting to be acknowledged. When Jim finally looked up at him, he was jolted by shock; the other boy had a ring of dark purple around his left eye and several scrapes along the line of his jaw.

“You are injured.”

Jim snorted at the obvious statement. “You’ve got eyes.”

Spock was confused by the retort for several moments, before he decided it wasn’t important. Carefully closing the distance between them, he came to stand directly in front of Jim. “How did you come to be injured?”

Something dark passed through blue eyes, but before Spock could attempt to analyze it, Jim was getting up and brushing past him, intentionally shoving their shoulders together. “Let’s walk.” Spock was nearly sent off-balance by the shove, but he managed to keep himself upright with minimal flailing.

“Where are we walking to?”

Jim laughed. The sound was cold. “Who the fuck cares. Just walk with me.”

Spock looked back at the house. Frank was likely inside, speaking with his mother. He didn’t know how long they might be. Jim was already a good distance away by the time he made up his mind and followed after him. He easily caught up with a number of measured strides. For a while, they walked in silence, the only sound the crunch of dirt under their feet.

Suddenly, Jim stopped dead and spun around. Spock forced himself to stop as well, staring at Jim with both eyebrows raised expectantly – though what he was expecting, he wasn’t sure. The human boy was even more illogical and difficult to read today than he had been yesterday and Spock found himself wishing his attempts at meditation had been more successful. He felt frazzled, on edge in Jim’s presence, like there was a thread pulled too tight inside him. He belatedly noted that among his other injuries, Jim’s knuckles were bruised.

“I would like to inquire as to how you received your injuries.”

Jim tensed, hands clenching at his sides. “I fell, okay? Now quit asking.”

“I simply want to ensure that you are not—“

“Shut up!”

And as if to _make_ him shut up, Jim pitched forward into Spock’s personal space. Their lips crashed together. Spock went rigid, mental shields slamming down in an attempt to protect him from unwanted emotional bleeding. It was too late, though. Anger and pain filtered through the contact, along with a sharp, keening desperation and loneliness that left Spock feeling like he’d been eviscerated. With a violent shudder, he shoved Jim back. The human boy lost his balance, crashed down on his butt. Spock immediately regretted the action and moved to kneel in front of Jim.

“I did not intend to—“

“It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize.”

“But I—“

“Spock. Seriously.”

“Are you—“

“Oh my god. Are all Vulcans as stubborn as you?” Jim broke into genuine laughter, and whatever worries Spock had about his well-being disappeared, even if it was replaced by confusion at his seemingly ephemeral moods. The feelings he’d experienced from Jim were still raw lances, but he pushed them as far back as he could, buried them until he would be able to sort and examine them in private.

Jim was looking at him again, laughter subsided, and he shifted until he was on his knees, and then leaned in, slowly, like he was afraid the slightest wrong movement would make Spock bolt. Spock steeled himself, uncertain. The human boy pressed their lips together again, a bare brush of a kiss. “Why do you care about my well-being?” The words were breathed against Spock’s mouth. Spock inhaled carefully, able to taste a hint of mint that lingered on Jim’s breath.

“It is only logical to think about about the well-being of others.”

“Logical, huh?”

Spock lifted an eyebrow. “Indeed.”

Jim grinned and leaned back, giving Spock his space back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the super slow updates; I'm in the process of moving. Things won't be settled until after October, and then, with any luck, my muse will come back. Thanks to everyone for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote more? fdskalfw IT'S A MIRACLE.
> 
> ALSO: I went through previous chapters and corrected some mistakes/made things neater. I'm a perfectionist.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in that spot, until Spock’s keen hearing picked up his mother’s voice. She was calling him in for dinner. Apparently, Jim and Frank were staying to eat. The two boys got up and went back to the house. Jim practically jumped up the steps, Spock following behind at a calmer, less emotional pace. Amanda was standing in the doorway with her usual welcoming smile. She let Jim through but stopped Spock, a hand lifting to wipe away a smudge of dirt on his cheek.

“Is everything okay?”

Spock blinked, not sure he understood just what his mother was referring to. There were a number of circumstances she could mean. He simply nodded, though, and stepped past her, making his way into the dining room where Jim and Frank were already seated. There was an awkward tension between them, which Spock couldn’t place the source of. It dissipated slightly when he sat next to Jim, and then more when Amanda joined them only a moment later.

“It’s a Vulcan dish,” Amanda supplied. “If I’d known we were having company I would have made something else. I hope you like it anyway.”

Frank smiled at her in a way that made Spock want to sit up straighter. He didn’t ignore the urge and caught Jim rolling his eyes out of his peripheral vision. “I’m sure it’s great. Vegetarian, right?”

Amanda and Frank continued to make idle small chat throughout the meal. When Spock and Jim were finished, they excused themselves. Spock led Jim up to his room, where he immediately took to rummaging through Spock’s few unpacked bags.

“Got any cool Vulcan stuff?”

Spock stared at Jim with a raised eyebrow, simultaneously affronted and strangely amused by his brazen, rude behavior. “Is it not customary on Earth to acquire permission prior to touching another’s belongings?”

“Nope. What’s this?”

Jim held up a small, circular disc and Spock felt himself flush, though he could not place why.

“It is a holoprojector. It was given to me by my father.”

“—oh.”

Stepping forward, Spock gently took the disc and swiped his thumb over the smooth surface. A flickering image of Sarek appeared.

“You look a lot like him.”

“I have been told I have far more similarities to my mother.” Spock didn’t bother to say that when others told him that, they usually meant it as an insult. _He has human eyes._ Swiping his thumb over the disc again made the hologram disappear.

“Your ears and eyebrows are definitely his, though,” Jim stated.

Spock felt his lips twitch despite himself. “Indeed. Vulcan genetics are dominant over human genetics.”

They spent the next hour digging through Spock’s belongings – or rather, Jim dug and Spock placed things aside when he was done investigating them. When Amanda called them down, they both went, to find her and Frank waiting by the front door. Jim clapped Spock on the shoulder by way of saying goodbye, thanked Amanda for dinner and headed out the door, only to be halted by Frank’s hand on one of his shoulders.

“Amanda says you can stay here for the night.”

“Oh. Okay. Cool.”

Frank leaned in and whispered something so low it was obviously not meant to be heard, but Spock was a Vulcan with keen hearing and he was able to make it out anyway. “You got lucky tonight.” Straightening, he turned to Amanda with another of those smiles that made Spock go rigid. “It was a lovely evening, Amanda. I hope Jimmy doesn’t give you any trouble. I’ll be ‘round to pick him up tomorrow afternoon.”

With that, Frank was gone. Jim grabbed Spock’s hand and all but dragged him back upstairs. Back in the room, he looked out the window, watching as Frank’s truck pulled out and drove off. He didn’t move away from the window until he was completely out of sight.

“Jim.”

“No, Spock.”

“You do not even know what I was going to say.”

“Doesn’t matter. The answer’s still no.”

At a loss, Spock resumed what they had been doing prior to being interrupted. It wasn’t long before Jim joined him.


	8. Chapter 8

It was 2:43 AM when Spock opened his eyes, uncertain as to what had disturbed his sleep. The room was quiet. Moonlight filtered in through his half-curtained window. For the span of several seconds, he experienced mild disorientation regarding where he was until there was the slightest movement at his side and he turned his head to see Jim sprawled gracelessly beside him. The human appeared to be asleep, breathing deep and even. It was then he remembered; he was on Earth and Jim Kirk was spending the night. He took a moment to inspect the sleeping human’s face. The ring of purple around his left eye was lighter, becoming tinged with yellow, a clear sign of healing. Spock curled his fingers into the sheet that was laid over them to curb the urge to reach out and feather his fingers along the scabbed-over scrapes that marred Jim’s sharp jaw line. He never had received an explanation for the presence of the wounds, and earlier that night, when Jim had removed his shirt before crawling into the bed with Spock, he’d glimpse several more dark bruises along his back. On Vulcan there was no such thing as child abuse. It was illogical, as children were considered precious, and so Spock had not encountered such a thing before. Despite that, he was absolutely certain the marks of violence upon Jim’s body were the result of abuse. He had on occasion bore such marks himself after a fight with his so-called peers, after they would resort to physical assault when their verbal taunts failed to provoke an emotional response from him.

Spock was so distracted trying to catalogue the moonlit tone of Jim’s skin he didn’t immediately realize the human had opened his eyes and was watching him back just as intently. When he did, it was with a barely-restrained start. He’d expected to be scolded or snapped at, but instead Jim’s lips merely curled at the edges.

“You know it’s kind of creepy to watch people while they sleep, right?” Jim’s voice was hushed, a low, sleep-gruff whisper in the silence of the night-soaked room.

“ _Ni’droi’ik nar-tor._ ”

“What?” Jim scrunched his nose up.

“It is Vulcan. The literal translation is ‘asking forgiveness’.”

That bare ghost of a smile bloomed into a full-fledged grin. “You are forgiven.”

The warmth that Spock was beginning to associate with Jim Kirk’s presence flooded through him and he slowly relaxed his hold on the sheet.

“Can you teach me some Vulcan?”

Spock nodded. “I must warn you, however, that it is a difficult language to learn.”

Jim looked skeptical. “More difficult than English, or Klingon?”

“Infinitely more. You speak Klingon?”

“ _HIja'._ ”

“Fascinating.”

“Hey, I’m full of surprises.”

Spock had to suppress a smile, though he was certain the warmth he felt was reflected in his eyes. He’d always been told he had very expressive (very _human_ ) eyes. For the first time in his admittedly short life that didn’t seem like such a bad attribute to possess, not if the reflecting warmth in Jim’s eyes was any indication.

They delved into Jim’s first Vulcan lesson then, which lasted one point five hours and consisted of Spock teaching him how to pronounce the Vulcan consonants and vowels. It was interrupted when Jim yawned widely and Spock decided they should get more rest, which Jim consented to almost surprisingly easily. The blond shuffled back under the sheet and turned until his back was facing Spock, at which point he reached behind him to grab one of Spock’s hands and pull him right up against him. Spock went stiff at the contact but quickly relaxed, instinctively threading his arm under Jim’s, along his side, and letting his hand rest adjacent his abdomen, where he could feel Jim’s breathing in the rise and fall of his stomach. He was strangely comfortable like that, and a sense of _warm sleepy safe_ shimmered through him from Jim from the contact of their bare legs beneath the sheet. Spock closed his eyes and let contentment and satisfaction wash through him, followed by the weightless lull of sleep.

When he next woke, it was 9 AM and to the sound of his mother calling his and Jim’s names from downstairs. Jim was already up, and Spock had just enough time to be able to snatch a pillow out of the air as it came flying through the air at him. Jim’s laughter was bright and Spock was too bewildered and awed by him to even consider retaliating. He got up, made his bed, brushed his sleep-mussed hair (but not before Jim ran his hands through it several times to interrupt and try to keep it in disarray) and towed Jim downstairs, where the scent of breakfast was heady and alluring. They ate; Spock placidly, Jim eagerly, Amanda watching the pair with a smile. When they finished eating, they returned to Spock’s room, where Jim lounged on the bed and complained about being bored for fifteen minutes until Spock became too exasperated to allow the complaining to continue.

“What do you wish to do?”

“We could go to the quarry.”

“That sounds… acceptable.”

They got dressed and, after informing Amanda of their plan, they left for the quarry.


End file.
